Smashing Rocks
by Hangman's Noose
Summary: CCD


SMASHING ROCKS  
By Adam Griem  
  
His dark brown hair swayed as if it had a life of it's own with the relentless autumn breeze. His green eyes were hard and intent as he watched what he did. He was dressed in a black vest over a white dress shirt. Over that he wore a gray trench coat, hiding his black slacks. His black boats were speckled in mud. The trees were on fire with color. Red, orange and yellow dominated all other colors. A breeze whipped through the tree leaves like a bat out of hell. Everything seemed to have a gray hue to it. Such was autumn in Des Plaines, Illinois. The man's name was Matt. He had a rock in his hand, wide and flat. He threw it up into the air and watched it flip over repeatedly before crashing onto the road in front of him. It hit and bounced up again, then came to a rest. He stared at it awhile. In his left hand, gloved in fingerless leather, he held another rock. It was almost identical to the one that lay on the ground. He raised his arm to toss it. "Wait," A voice commanded. Matt looked to his right, at the source of the voice. A man no younger than thirty walked out from behind a tree. He had short spiked black hair. He wore mirrored glasses, and had a goatee that neatly outlined his chin. A sliver lip ring hung from his lower lip. He wore a blue waffle knit shirt and cut up blue jeans. He walked with attitude. "Don't throw that just yet," The man said. "Why not?" Matt asked. "Not if you want it to break," The man replied. Matt cocked his head in a puzzled fashion. "What's your name?" He questioned. "Duster," The man replied smoothly. He took out a small revolver form his pants waist. Matt dropped the rock he was holding onto the soft green grass. "No, don't be afraid. I'm not going to kill you. Well, not on purpose," Duster said with a grin. "What do you want?" Matt asked in a matter of fact tone. "I want to play a game. It's called Russian roulette. Have you hear of it?" Duster asked innocently. "Can't say I have," Matt spat out. "I see. I'll explain then. There are two bullets in this revolving chamber. I played them in randomly and spun the chamber. I have no idea where the bullets are exactly. What we do is this, I shoot at you to and if there is a bullet in there and you get hit, I win. See?" Duster explained, his hands animated with talk. Matt shook his head, "No way my friend, that's a fools game." Duster's grin dropped of his face, "Excuse me? "A fool's game?" This game has more dignity and bravery than anything I know. It beats throwing rocks into the air!" "But that has a purpose," Matt shot back calmly. "What's that?" Duster asked in an acidic tone. "I want to see how many I throw before one breaks. I'm trying to figure out the outcome of something random," Matt said. Duster shook his head, "Sorry, I fail to see the difference." And with that, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. There was a loud click as the barrel of the gun pushed itself along. Matt had a hand up shielding his face. He slowly put his hand down. "I said I didn't want to PLAY!" Matt shouted. Duster grinned and tossed the revolver to Matt. Matt caught it. "If you don't want to play, why catch the gun?" Duster asked. His grin grew wider. Matt looked down on the gun. It had a rusty brown color to it. The plastic handle was cold, the steel even colder. He clasped the gun tighter in his hands and raised it, at arm level. Duster spread his arms out like Jesus and closed his eyes. Matt squeezed the trigger. The bang erupted like lighting in a clear sky. Matt stumbled back. He looked at Duster who held his side. Blood seeped through his blue shirt. It looked black and shiny. Duster looked down at himself, then back at Matt. Matt could see fear on Duster's face. But it turned into rage. Duster reached around him and yanked out another revolver. It was a replica of the one Matt held. Matt has no time to react as Duster fired. As the bullet entered his chest Matt felt a great weight on his sternum. Suddenly his breathing constricted. Matt's mouth dried up immediately, his eyes watered. The shock of being shot raced all along his nerves. There was no room to register pain. Then all he could think of was the gun in his hand. There was one more bullet. What were the chances of that bullet being next in the clip. Matt reached down with shaky hands to open the barrel but he saw Duster leveling for another shot. Matt reacted faster. Duster fell to the ground, a deep purple hole in his forehead. His glasses reflected Matt as he walked up. Matt dropped the revolver next to Duster. A tiny trickle of blood snaked down Duster's pale forehead. Matt watched the man for a second. His mind was fighting to comprehend of the random events but was preoccupied by the lurching of Matt's stomach. Matt staggered over to the rock he had dropped earlier. It had seemed as if days had passed since he had thrown the rocks. He reached down and grabbed the rock. He threw it up into the blue sky. It flipped randomly and came crashing down with such speed it smashed into a dozen pieces all over the road. 


End file.
